


let's hear it for the boys

by queerofcups



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: They go to Pride.





	let's hear it for the boys

It’s not the stupidest, riskiest thing they’ve done. It’s not even the stupidest thing they’ve done on this tour. They’ve got a single security person with them, who’s agreed to walk a reasonable distance away and his bulging muscles fit in just fine with half of the other men out tonight. It's not nearly as stupid as last tour when they’d wander off without phones just to be away from all of it a little while.

Those walks were out of desperation, out of a life or death need to get way from all the eyes watching them all the time. No one is watching them like that tonight. Not like that anyway.

Dan’s been to pride before, a long long time ago, before Phil was even his reality. His life is his life and he has a hard time being bitter about it. But sometimes, in the dark of nights, when Phil’s been sleeping beside him for hours, he thinks about the ways he’s queer and the ways he can’t be. Right now, in the sweltering heat of an American Pride, in a sea of people who don’t look at him twice, it feels a little like he’s living that life.  
‘  
They’re disguised, a little. He’s got on a baseball cap and obnoxiously large sunglasses and--a little minute decision, a slightly hideous hawaiian shirt that’s only barely buttoned and the shortest shorts he could find on their Target run. Phil’s got sunglasses too, along with a few off days worth of stubble, sprinkled liberally with glitter and the ugliest pastel t-shirt he could find at the target they stopped at. His quiff stands at proud attention, stiffened with hair gel and another handful of glitter. They’re going to be washing glitter off months and months from now when they get back home.

Dan’s been to pride before but America, being America, always has to do things bigger, always too much. The air is thick with heat, with humidity, and with errant but surprisingly regular clouds of sticky-sweet smelling smoke that the cops pretend not to notice. People are wearing everything, from full suits to pasties and everyone’s bedazzled with cheap, clicking plastic beads. There are signs and so many flags and Dan things, briefly, of their audience and how much they’ve taught him about existences and identities outside of his own. Everyone seems so alive. Most people are happy, but it's a hot, sticky, long day so there are pockets of people who look tired, or angry, or just overwhelmed. But everyone is brighter, seem electrified by the day of being allowed to just be themselves, no looking over their shoulders, no second guessing where it's safe to say what they want to say.

It's a heady feeling, almost entirely unfamiliar for Dan.

The music is louder here, tinkly pop hit after booming bassy club banger and the drinks are stronger and the people, or at least them men, are much grabbier. After the third time he’s been half-consensually grinded on by a complete stranger, he makes a point to let himself sway into Phil’s space, tangles their fingers together in a loose hold that breaks apart easily when they need to squeeze through a tight spot.

Phil looks at him, eyebrow raised above the rim of his glasses, but Dan just gives him a shit eating grin and brings their hands up to his mouth so he can kiss Phil’s knuckles. No one gives them a second look, not even to coo condescendingly at their sweetness. Dan tugs him along, toward the one drink vendor in this city that doesn’t have a line the length of a city block. There are people dancing in line, from a absent-minded sway to full on backs arched, hands on hips dancing. Dan tries not to be too obvious about watching, but he does back up into Phil, places Phil’s hand on his hip and bounces a little, just because he can.

“What do you want?” Phil asks, hooking his chin on Dan’s shoulder. He fiddles with the one button of Dan’s hawaiian shirt that’s technically keeping Dan from being fully tits out on main. Further away, on the streets where the parade is happening, the crowd goes woooo.

“Vodka,” Dan says, squinting at the prices. “Vodka red bulls, old man, no falling asleep on me tonight.”

Phil huffs a laugh and, after a moment of hesitation so small Dan might have imagined it, slips his hand between the florid floral flaps of Dan’s shirt to press a hand to his belly. Phil’s always been the braver one, between the two of them, off camera. He’s always ready to touch, ready to push whatever boundary they’ve set between themselves, his awkward physicality turning into confident possession. Dan leans back heavier against him and shivers when Phil’s mouth brushes against his neck.

“D’you have plans for the rest of the night?” Phil asks, close enough that he can murmur it straight into the skin below Dan’s ear. “Something I need to stay awake for?”

Good to know Dan’s not the only one that feels affected by this taste of freedom. Before Dan can answer, someone passes by, saying, “That’s hot.”

Phil’s mouth quirks up into a smile and he turns and throws a thanks over his shoulder.

When Dan looks over, it's a pack of passing men, their frames trim and muscular, all shirtless. One, of them, a tan, Asian man with a lavender fringe, who has to be at least half a foot shorter than them, turns to walk backward, looking back at them. He raises an eyebrow.

Like every other queer of a certain age, Dan’s seen Queer as Folk, UK and US versions, thanks. He’s seen porn and he’s gone on wikipedia spirals. He knows what happens at pride, and he knows what an invitation looks like. Him and Phil being a package deal probably wouldn’t even be a problem. He even smiles at the man, lets the fantasy unfold in his mind for just a moment, him and Phil and this man, finding a dark corner of pride, easy enough in the oncoming night, to touch each other. Phil’s not the only guy Dan’s been with, but it was so long ago, fumbling hands on still developing bodies. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about what it's like to be with another man.

But he just smiles at the man and shakes his head a little, turning to press his chest to Phil’s. He tugs him closer and kisses him, their glasses clicking together. Tonight is just for them. Their security guard is somewhere just left of the line and there’s always the possibility that a picture of this kiss will show up in his mentions at any moment. But he’s got his man, his Phil, in the circle of his arms, kissing him back even though their skin is sticking together and it's nearly too hot to even move.

“I’ve got a lot of plans,” Dan says, pulling away for a moment before going in for another kiss.

Maybe tomorrow he’ll still be proud, unashamed and unconcerned, and post one of the pictures they took earlier, sweaty and smiling in the camera, wrapped in a pride flag and smiling at each other.

He won’t, probably, but this night makes him feel like he could.

 

"Happy pride," he tells Phil. When Phil smiles back at him, he feels it in his bones.

**Author's Note:**

> I fudged some tour dates so they'd be in America during Pride. Title is from the #iconique song. Happy Pride, y'all.


End file.
